


Tethered

by flibbertygigget



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Post-HLB, Retirement, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015, discussion of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one person that Watson is unable or, perhaps, unwilling to save is himself.</p>
<p>JWP #9: Healer's Choice. One person Watson chose not to save.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tethered

I shall never admit it to Watson, but I have become quite fond of his scribblings in my retirement. Perhaps growing older has helped me to better appreciate his rose-tinted view of our cases. Perhaps it is because my Watson, my loyal friend, is immortalized in those pages as he was and not as what he has become.

It is no secret that Watson's blood carries an unfortunate proclivity towards addiction. Whether it is his elder brother, wasted away inside the bottle, or his father, lost in the maze of the opium dens, there is no doubt in my mind that the Watson men will sink rather than thrive when pushed too far. Indeed, his vast experience with the dangers found in bottles and needles was what made my Watson so uncompromising about my own habits. It was onky through his willpower that I was ever able to free myself from the devils that tethered me to the cocaine.

It is a shame that a man so adept at saving others  is unable or, perhaps, unwilling to extend the same courtesy to himself. 

The Watson in his stories is vibrant, courageous, wise, and kind, not through any vanity on Watson's part but because that is or was simply his nature. Watson today is a shell, hallowed out and broken. He is so haunted by those he could not save that he has become the only man he has ever refused to save. And I, the great Sherlock Holmes, am utterly useless. I may be a genius, but Watson was the one who could peer into men's hearts and souls. All the logic in the world cannot recent the bottle from stealing all color and joy from my dearest friend.

So I sit by the fire and tend my bees and I try to replace my Watson with his words. It is not a cure, not for him nor for me, but it is all I can think of to do. The ties that bind us to each other are too strong to break, but I can no longer rival the immense gravity that tethers him to the bottle.


End file.
